“The wise man knows himself to be a fool,” Shakespeare (the fool).

In an article William Leith in 1991, DeLillo said, “I write to find out how much I know,” he said. “The act of writing for me is a concentrated form of thought. If I don’t enter that particular level of concentration, the chances are that certain ideas never reach any level of fruition.”

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There are many ways within you, some carpeted with bright electric light, some slippery as stones strung through a pond. How very brave that you should venture forth despite reflections, murky and florescent; to uncover what you know.